


Rock of Ages

by Cenea



Category: Take That
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-11
Updated: 2012-03-11
Packaged: 2017-11-01 19:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cenea/pseuds/Cenea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>December 2011. After he’s finished doing a charity auction, Mark goes backstage at the Albert Hall to congratulate Gary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rock of Ages

Mark manages to slip in through a side door of the Albert Hall without any of the paps or fans noticing.  Once inside, parrying folks’ attention is a little harder, but he fights his way through, until he is waiting alone. Waiting in Gary’s dressing room, for when his Captain comes off the stage.  
  
Waiting. And twitching, and sweating slightly, still staring at the picture he’s just painted, the little elephant with the very big trunk.  Mark stares straight through his own art work, which he paid good money to buy back; he’s thinking too hard about why he’s here.  
  
God, he knows Gary Barlow backward, has been through heaven and hell with him. Why is he this nervous?  
  
 _Four months.  It’s been four months since I’ve seen him.  Yeah, so once years passed by without an exchange of words. But now, after everything...? Shit, this is silly.  This is Gary’s big night.  I shouldn’t have come._  
  
The cheering from the auditorium is almost deafening. It rises in a fever pitch crescendo, and then slowly it fades. Mark’s heartbeat is pounding. When Gary finally appears at the door, the man of the moment stretches his eyes wide, and his jaw drops.  
  
“Mark!”  
  
Mark catches a glimpse of Gary’s sparkly jacket and he grins automatically, but he’s too transfixed by the man wearing it to have the wits to take the piss. Mark’s momentarily speechless, even though Gary looks like a cross between a conductor and an end-of-pier bingo caller, and his hair is sticking out at askance angles, as if he’s been dragged through…well, dragged through a crowd of rabid fans really, ten times worse than any hedge. But it’s the look in Gary’s eyes that nearly fells Mark. Captain Barlow’s gaze exudes majesty, euphoria…and a wisp of something else, which Mark refuses to believe to be guilt.  
  
Is it longing? Fuck, Mark hopes it’s longing. _Sad, eh?_ He laughs, softly.  
  
“What a surprise!” cries Gary theatrically, as if he’s never left his stage. “Thought you were keeping a low profile, eh, Markie? No public outings ‘til the end of the year.”  
  
A man can change his mind, can’t he?  A man can…have regrets. Mark’s been trying to learn to say “No” rather than always “Yes” lately, but maybe he’s been overdoing it?  He swallows hard. “Just wanted to say…congratulations, mate.”  
  
“Thank you.  Brilliant night, fantastic, I…”  
  
They both stop grinning; Mark bites his lip. Gary crosses the room in three swift strides, and then pulls Mark into a tight embrace. Mark loops his arms around Gary’s neck, presses his face into his shoulder and just…melts.  
  
 _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._  
  
Mark’s mind is screaming, his body caught in a whirlwind. Gary feels lean, ever harder than before; his familiar aftershave has been drenched by the tang of the crowd, of perspiration, and of power, which rolls from his body, buffeting into Mark like an ocean tide. Mark clings tighter; he balls his fists in the sparkly jacket, knowing his knuckles must be whitening. He’s supposed to be breaking away from this man for a while, getting on with his life, but…  
  
Gary murmurs something about locking the door, but it’s too late. Gary pulls away a little, and Mark’s hopes are underlined before Gary says a word. Gary speaks volumes with his eyes, his squared jaw, and his furrowed brows. The theatricals are over now.  
  
“Missed you, mate,” mumbles Gary.  “It’s been…too long.”  
  
Mark’s breathing catches in his throat.  He’s already parting his lips, begging with his eyes, because he just can’t help himself.  And Gary plunges into the kiss Mark has craved for four months, as intense and powerful as the man himself, sweeping to Mark’s depths, making him believe, if just for the moment, that he’s the only one that ever matters to this man, this fucking self-made demigod. That nobody else could ever sing _his_ song…  
  
Then Mark stops thinking because Gary is kissing him too hard. Mark moves his tongue sweetly and slickly against his, relishing the scrub of Gary’s stubble against his freshly-shaved chin.  He’s clinging ever tighter now. Since when did Gary become quite so lean, all sinew, muscle and angles, all the softness about the man gone?  And, hell, Mark wants him more than ever.  
  
He slips his knee between Gary’s thighs; he still can’t help himself. Mark scrubs wantonly, making Gary moan into his throat. Gary slips his hand to the back of Mark’s neck, gripping possessively and tangling his fingers in Mark’s sweat-drenched hair. And Mark bucks his whole body against him, increasing the friction, because Gary is hardening, Mark can feel it.  He’s missed this; he’s missed this so bloody much. Any minute now, Mark’s going to be on his knees, parting his swollen lips, ready to give anything and everything…  
  
But they can’t.  Not here; they’re already courting danger. Mark knows, and Gary knows.  That’s why he’s prying Mark off, breaking the kiss. Mark sucks Gary’s bottom lip for a moment, humming in frustration. And as he presses his forehead to Gary’s, he can read the torment in his friend’s eyes too.  And although Mark’s body is tight with arousal, relief floods through him.  
  
 _This thing. Our thing. Nothing’s changed._  
  
“See you in another couple of months, Gaz,” murmurs Mark.  
  
“No,” replies Gary, his voice a lust-filled husk, his gaze hard and deadly serious now.  “It’s got to be sooner than that.  Got to have you sooner. Missed you too much.”  
  
Mark smiles, narrowing his eyes, backing toward the door but not forgetting to pick up his picture, his little elephant. He’s given enough of a gift tonight, and received enough too. So he won’t give the picture to Gary now after all. A visit to exchange Christmas gifts is just the kind of excuse he needs to see Gary again. And the man will be even hungrier for him then.  
  
“Night, Gaz,” he breathes, and he licks his lips. He’ll savor that taste a long while. “Take care.”


End file.
